Although moving around was exhausting, Courtney had lived in New York, Virginia, Texas, Colorado, Maine, and, most recently, California. She’d met different people, experienced new cultures, and had become a better writer. But every time she came home, Courtney couldn’t help but look around with a feeling of longing, wishing things could be different and she could finally stay put. What she’d once considered an adventurous life was getting old.
With a sigh, Courtney pulled a leaf off a nearby bush and ran her fingers across the smooth, silky surface. “Maybe someday I’ll move back for good. Just not yet.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Hannah stopped to look at a banner that spanned the road in front of them and pointed. “Hey, you’re going to be here for the Solstice Days this year.”
“So?”
She turned to Courtney, and a slow, almost devious, smile spread across her face. “So... that means we can both enter The Meltdown Match.”
Courtney shook her head. “No way. That contest screams desperation, and I’m not desperate. Neither are you. Don’t you already have a date lined up for Friday?”
“And Saturday.” Hannah grinned. “But who cares? This isn’t about looking desperate. It’s about doing something spontaneous and having fun.” She grabbed Courtney’s arm, tugging her along, and Courtney’s gaze dropped from the banner to the empty field across the street, where a moose stood grazing—the first moose she’d seen since her return.
Courtney smiled. Truth be known, she’d always thought of The Meltdown Match as a romantic, even magical, tradition. The so-called legend stated that on the day when the sun shined the longest, two unsuspecting hearts would be brought together in a union created by the universe. Furthermore, if they married under the sun of the summer solstice, they were promised a lifetime of happiness.
Or something like that.
Every year during Heimel’s Solstice Days, on the morning of June 21, the first official day of summer and longest day of the year, hundreds of vases made of ice, each holding a stick with the name of a man or woman between the ages of 21 and 29, were left to melt in the warm summer sun. The first male and female sticks to fall were matched.
For Courtney, writer of romances with a magical twist, it sounded like a novel-worthy beginning to a wonderful love story. Who wouldn’t want to say they were matched by the greatest source of light? She’d always wanted to enter the contest and win, but one thing had always held her back. What if her vase didn’t melt first? What became of all the names the sun didn’t recognize as worthy of true love? She didn’t really want to find out.
Granted, only a handful of the matches had ever ended in a lasting union, but a part of her couldn’t help but believe that the sun didn’t make mistakes—only people did.
Lost in her thoughts, Courtney didn’t realize where they were headed until Hannah pulled her inside the musty-smelling city office building. She planted her feet and tried to pull her hand free. “Are you deaf? I told you, I’m not entering the contest.”
“Are too,” Hannah countered.
“Are not.”
“Too.”
“Not.”
“Well if it isn’t Salt and Pepper arguing in public,” said a deep voice behind Courtney. “Some things never change.”
Courtney grinned as she turned around to meet Mitch Winter’s teasing eyes. Only a few years older and a good friend, he’d made a habit of giving Courtney a hard time over the years. “We hardly ever argue, especially in public. You just have bad timing.”
Mitch chuckled as he pulled her into one of his signature hugs, making Courtney feel warm, cozy, and more than content to stay there forever. Yet another reason she liked leaving and coming home. Only Mitch hugged her like this when she came back.
“Welcome home,” he said.
Courtney breathed in the clean, outdoorsy scent that always seemed to surround him. Not for the first time, she found herself wishing she were Mitch’s type—willowy, classy, and brunette—not average and blonde, something he loved to point out with the annoying nickname he’d given her of “Salt.”
She reluctantly pulled free and studied his handsome, mischievous face. Green eyes. Dark, curly hair that hung just over his ears. A teasing smile that often taunted her. She slugged him lightly on his arm. “When are you going to grow up? Do we seriously have to dye our hair to get you to stop using those awful nicknames?”
“Speak for yourself,” Hannah said. “My hair rocks, and I like being called Pepper.”
Mitch tugged on a lock of Courtney’s straight, blonde hair. “Dye it red, and I’d just start calling you cinnamon instead. But I like Salt better, so I hope you’ll leave it alone.”
“Someday I’m going to think of an equally lousy nickname for you, and you’re going to rue the day you ever started calling me Salt.”
“I look forward to it.” Mitch grinned and glanced at Hannah. “You home for the summer too?”
Hannah rolled her eyes. “Awesome. I’m the afterthought again. And yes, I am home for the summer, maybe even for good. I did just graduate, you know.”
“From college?” Mitch shook his head. “No way you’re old enough for that.”
“You’re just bugged because it makes you feel ancient. What are you now, thirty?”
“Twenty-nine,” Mitch returned.
A large smile spread across Hannah’s face as she shot her sister a meaningful glance. “Hear that, Court? Looks like Mitch can enter The Meltdown Match too.”
He leaned against the wall and folded his arms. “No, I can’t, and neither can you, if that’s what you’re here to do. Deadline was yesterday.”
Hannah cocked her head again and gave him a sultry smile as she moved closer and adjusted the collar of his navy and grey plaid shirt. “Oh, but I’m sure big-wig Mr. City Engineer can find a way to sneak our names in.”
“Leave me out of this,” Courtney said. “I don’t want my name anywhere near those ice vases.”
“She’s lying,” Hannah said. “Ignore her.”
“And if I could get you in?” Mitch said. “What do I get in return?”
“A plate of my mother’s to-die-for-cinnamon rolls,” Hannah said. “Straight from the oven.”
Mitch nodded as if mulling over the offer. “Consider it done.” He pushed away from the wall and pointed a finger at Hannah. “But those rolls better be hot.”
“They will be.”
He moved to walk away, but Courtney stopped him with a hand on his arm. “If my name ends up on one of those sticks, there’s going to be a lot more than just cinnamon in those rolls.”
“Like what?”
“Like, I don’t know, salt maybe? You do like it better than cinnamon, right?”
Mitch leaned close, giving her one of his mischievous smiles laced with hidden meaning. “Actually, I like Salt better than a lot of things.” With a wink, he was gone, striding away and leaving Courtney’s stomach flip-flopping like crazy.
Mitch jogged up the stairs, feeling like his day, and possibly summer, had just gotten a lot brighter. Courtney was back in town and had basically handed him a golden opportunity.
He rounded the corner, stepped into a small cubicle, and planted his hands on Alyssa’s desk. As the administrative secretary, she had the unlucky responsibility of being in charge of The Meltdown Match. “Hey, Lys, I have a few more names to add to the contest.”
She continued her typing without a glance at him. “Sorry. Deadline’s passed. They’ll have to wait until next year.”
“But I’ll be thirty then.”
Her chubby fingers stopped typing, like Mitch knew they would. She looked up and studied him through thick, black-framed glasses. “I’m sorry, did you just say you want to enter?”
“Sure, why not?”
“Because last week you called The Meltdown Match an embarrassment to Heimel.”
Mitch shrugged. “I’ve had a change of heart.”
Alyssa pursed her lips as she continu
ed to watch him. Although she only had about five years on him, the way she peered at him made him feel like he was back in elementary school, in trouble with his teacher. “You said a few names. Who else?”
“Courtney and Hannah Spaulding. I ran into them downstairs.”
The wariness in her eyes disappeared, replaced by a slight, knowing smile. “Ah. Everything just got a lot clearer. You do know we have over 100 entries, right? Your chances of getting matched with Courtney aren’t that great.”
Mitch pushed off the desk and stood. “Yeah, well, I was thinking we could increase my odds.”
“And how are we going to do that?”
“With salt, obviously.”
She blinked. “To you, maybe.”
Mitch smiled, more than a little satisfied with himself. What better way to score a date with Salt than with salt? It was perfect. A slam dunk. “Did you know that nifty little substance lowers the freezing point of water?”
Realization dawned in Alyssa’s slightly magnified eyes. “Well, aren’t you regular genius.” Her expression turned calculating, making Mitch suddenly wary.
“It’s going to cost me, isn’t it?” he said.
She nodded. “I need someone to take the burger-flipping shift from eleven to two tomorrow, and you’re just the man to do it.”
Mitch paused. Why was he willing to jump through so many hoops for a date with Courtney? It would be much less complicated to pick up a phone, ask her out, and avoid the hassle of burger duty and frozen salt water. But there was a reason he’d always kept things at the teasing, just-friends status. Something about her intimidated the heck out of him, and he’d never been able to bring himself to say, “Hey, I like you. Want to go out sometime?”
He’d much rather let the sun take the risk, and if flipping burgers for three hours is what it took to make that happen, so be it.
“Count me in,” he said.
Chapter Two
The clock on Courtney’s nightstand registered 4:20 AM. She blinked sleepy eyes at it as sunlight filtered its way around the outer corners of her blackout blinds, daring her to go back to sleep and miss the dawning of a wonderful, unique day. Today, the sun would shine down from its highest annual altitude, creating the longest day of the year. For those in Heimel, sunset wouldn’t come until close to midnight.
Courtney’s arms stretched over her head as a small smile touched her lips. She rolled out of bed and opened her blinds, allowing the sun to wash over her face for a few moments. Then she reached for her netbook and plopped down on her bed, tucking a few pillows behind her back. The air felt charged with creativity, as if inspiration had waited for the perfect moment to strike.
She stared at the blank computer screen, her mind whirring with possibilities for a new story. What about something set at a dilapidated castle surrounded by enchanted woods? Ireland, maybe? Hannah always suggested she try something international.
Then again, that sounded too much like a fairytale.
What about a story involving The Great Wall of China, or those mystical-looking islands off the coast of Vietnam?
Courtney’s fingers fluttered against the keys, not hard enough to make letters appear on the screen. Her expression brightened. What about New Zealand? She could write about a filmmaker who goes there to shoot a documentary about snow skiing then meets a mysterious woman who can control the weather.
She bit her lower lip. That could work—cool setting, lots of potential for intrigue and romance. Yes, that could definitely work.
For the next three hours, Courtney thought, typed, deleted, typed some more, and deleted some more. Something was wrong. Off. The story refused to come together the way her stories usually did. Was it the setting? The plot? The characters? All of the above?
Ugh. She pushed the netbook aside and frowned at the sun outside. So much for inspiration striking.
When the smell of bacon wafted into her room, she highlighted the remaining text, clicked delete, shoved her feet into her slippers, and headed downstairs with an attitude much less optimistic than it had been a few hours earlier.
“Hey, Mom, something smells good.”
Dressed in a rose-colored floral apron, with matching curlers in her hair, her mother poured pancake batter onto a skillet. “You’re up early. I figured you’d sleep in today and I’d have to keep your breakfast warm.”
Courtney move to the stove and stirred the homemade syrup that simmered there. “I think it’s going to take a few days for my body and mind to acclimate to the early sunrise. I’ve been up since 4:30.”
“Good grief, what have you been doing?”
“Writing,” Courtney said. “At least trying to. I woke up feeling inspired, only to come up with a whole lot of nothing.”
“Sorry to hear it.” Her mother flipped a pancake. “Maybe getting out will help. You and Hannah are going to the June Solstice Days aren’t you? That might trigger something.”
Courtney turned off the stove and moved the pan to the counter. She dipped her pinky in the syrup and licked the sweet liquid from her finger. “Let’s hope so. I promised my agent I’d have a rough draft ready by the end of the summer.”
Her mother smiled and patted her cheek. “And you will; I’m sure of it.”
Courtney returned the smile, feeling slightly encouraged. Her mother was right. She was in Heimel, after all, and sooner or later, something solid would come to her. It always did. She just hoped it would happen sooner than later.
Courtney eyed the cylindrical ice vases that covered the tops of several tables—probably about two hundred in all, and not much to look at shape-wise. But the way the light sparkled off the glossy surfaces made for an impressive sight. Located in a central, roped-off section of the fair grounds, throngs of people milled about, watching and waiting, as if staring at the vases would somehow make them melt faster. Courtney, on the other hand, knew the vases still had hours to go and cared more about whether or not her name appeared on one of the many sticks resting in the vases.
She sighed, knowing Mitch had probably made sure her name was there, intermixed with all the others. Or worse, maybe he’d used “Salt Spaulding,” which was something he’d be likely to do, since he liked to annoy her. Regardless, if The Meltdown Match came to an end and her name wasn’t announced, she wouldn’t look at the remaining sticks. She preferred to believe that if hers didn’t fall first, it didn’t exist.
“Look!” A little girl beamed as she pointed. “That vase is almost melted!”
Courtney took a few steps to the side and looked where the little girl pointed. Sure enough, in the men’s section, a vase definitely looked smaller than those surrounding it.
“Hey, that one seems to be melting faster too,” a woman said, pointing to another vase, this time in the women’s section.
Courtney’s heartbeat quickened when she saw the stick in the second vase already leaning precariously to the side, waiting for a few more inches of the ice to liquefy. Unable to pry her eyes away, Courtney stood there in awe, feeling like a miracle was happening right before her eyes. Was it coincidence, or was the sun really working its magic, bringing two unsuspecting hearts together? Whose names were on those sticks? She didn’t dare hope one was hers.
Before she caved to the temptation to duck under the ropes and be disappointed, she turned and weaved her way through the throng, in search of Hannah. Her eyes scanned the crowed until they settled on a tall, curly haired guy flipping burgers. Without meaning to, she started forward, forgetting all about the taco salad she and Hannah had agreed on later for lunch. A greasy hamburger suddenly sounded much better.
Courtney paid a few dollars for a plate with chips, potato salad, and a hamburger bun, then made her way to Mitch.
“Hey, aren’t you the city engineer?” she teased.
He looked up and grinned. “You obviously have me confused with someone else. In case you couldn’t tell, I’m a master chef with mad hamburger-flipping skills. Check this out.” He scooped up a pa
tty, tossed it in the air, watched as it flipped a couple of times, and caught it with his spatula. His grin widened. “See? No mere city engineer could do that.”
Courtney laughed. “You’re right. You couldn’t be the same person. No one in their right mind would ever let him near a grill.” She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “Back in high school, someone made the mistake of putting him in charge of the hamburgers at a summer party, and he—well, let’s just say that he gave ‘well done’ a whole new meaning.” Courtney stood on tiptoe and leaned forward to see over the top of the grill. “Those aren’t burnt, are they?”
“Very funny.” Mitch lowered the lid to block her view and raised an eyebrow in challenge. “Has anyone ever told you that your hair is the color of salt?”
Courtney barely refrained from rolling her eyes. “It’s blonde, not white. And no, not many people get that mixed up. Only you and that other guy who burns things.”
“Maybe I should leave your burger on a little longer. You know, for old time’s sake.”
“And maybe I should enter your name in the karaoke contest—you know, for old time’s sake,” Courtney said, reminding him of the time she’d done exactly that.
Mitch laughed. “Only if you’re planning to pass out ear plugs.”
“Oh, you weren’t that bad.” Courtney smiled and held up her plate. “One hamburger, please. I need to hurry and eat this before Hannah yells at me for having lunch without her.”
He nodded toward the table next to him. “Take a seat. It’ll be ready in a sec.”
Courtney walked around the grill and sat on the table, letting her legs swing beneath her as she admired how good Mitch looked in jeans and a snug-fitting T-shirt. When he glanced to the side and caught her staring, she cleared her throat and averted her gaze.
A Timeless Romance Anthology: Summer Wedding Collection Page 11
